


Watching People Pass

by Haberdasher



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Autistic Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Bi Jonathan Sims, Bisexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Bisexual Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Gen, Jon Sims Bi Pride January 2021, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist With a Cane, Pre-Canon, Pride, Pride Parades
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28559877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haberdasher/pseuds/Haberdasher
Summary: The story of one Pride Jon did not attend, and the events surrounding it. Written as part of jonsimsbipride, combining the prompts of “Pride” and “Solidarity”.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 88
Collections: bi jon sims celebration





	Watching People Pass

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [secondhand nostalgia ( or: prides never attended )](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28518678) by [seraf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraf/pseuds/seraf). 



“Are you planning on going to Pride tomorrow?”

Jon blinked a few times as he forced his brain to shift gears; he’d been in the middle of researching a document claiming to explain the inner workings of zombies (though its claims seemed likely to be exaggerated at best), but when Tim wanted to talk, Jon was more than willing to set his research aside for the moment. (Besides, the words coming out of Tim’s mouth alone had been enough to make Jon lose his train of thought.)

“I’m sorry?”

Tim took Jon’s reaction (or lack thereof) in stride, looking Jon’s way with a strange twinkle in his eye. “I _said_ , are you planning on going to Pride tomorrow?”

“I, uh, wasn’t planning on it, no. Why do you ask?”

“Because Sasha and I are going, and you’d be more than welcome to join us if you wanted. I figured you might enjoy seeing some friendly faces there.”

“Oh.” Jon blinked a few times again as he processed Tim’s words, processed the offer that was being extended to him. “I’ve never been, actually. What is it like?”

(A white lie, that. Jon had been to a few Prides before, one back in Bournemouth and more than once in Oxford, but never in London, and he figured that given the city’s size, London’s Pride was likely a different beast altogether.)

As Tim prattled on about what London Pride was like, the massive crowds and bright colors and loud music and constant chatter, Jon became more and more convinced that, as nice as it was for Tim to invite him along, that was very much not something he would enjoy actually taking part in, thanks.

For one thing, standing around for hours to watch a parade didn’t especially appeal to Jon, even without the possibility of either sensory overload or his legs potentially giving out even with the help of his cane--and, yes, perhaps he could bring a lawn chair along to sit in if need be, but then he would have to factor in carting a chair around wherever he went, which would just be trading one problem for another, really...

For another, apparently Tim always covered his face in appropriately-colored face paint when he went; Jon had worn face paint exactly once in his life, a small butterfly painted on his cheek when he was just a child, and it lasted about five minutes before he wiped it off because it felt itchy and wet and _wrong_. (His grandmother had berated him for wasting perfectly good face paint, but that hadn’t been enough to make him truly regret his actions there.) And sure, he could go without face paint perhaps, but wouldn’t that just make him stand out _more_ , especially next to Tim?

Jon politely turned down Tim’s offer, told him and Sasha to have fun at Pride without him, and he thought that was that.

Except that when “tomorrow” became today, Jon kept second-guessing his decision, wondering what it would be like to be surrounded by a crowd of like-minded people, with two of his best friends (two of his _only_ friends) by his side to back him up the whole time.

Jon kept turning on the news, absent-mindedly at first, but soon realizing that he was just watching for any mention of Pride. He watched every segment the news did about the event multiple times over, partly to take it all in and partly to see if he could catch a glimpse of Tim and Sasha in the crowd, though Jon knew logically that it was a losing battle even when said crowd was visible as more than a throng of dots reaching out to the horizon.

Jon ended up taping one of those segments; neither Tim nor Sasha were in it, as far as he could tell, but there _was_ somebody with colorful paint covering their entire head and somebody else with wild hair and a wide grin wearing several pastel pins, and Jon figured that was probably as close as he was going to get.

Though Jon wasn’t at Pride, he still went to bed that night with a smile on his face, knowing that the community was out there, was well within his reach if he wanted it.

When Tim came in on Monday, it was with a wild grin and a smudge of hot pink paint still visible on his cheek, talking a mile a minute to Sasha as the two entered the Research department together before looking over at Jon and heading over to his desk, parting ways with Sasha in the process.

“I got a bunch of extra swag this weekend at the parade,” Tim said in what sounded like a stage whisper. “You want a look?”

Jon hesitated for a moment before nodding.

Tim grabbed handful upon handful of paraphernalia out of his bag, more than Jon would have expected could even fit inside Tim’s bag, the lot of it soon covering Jon’s desk. There were pins, stickers, fliers, and other Pride-related material of all kinds in there, relating to a dizzying amount of different identities; Tim, it seemed, was making no assumptions here.

The first thing Jon grabbed was a small pin with stripes of black, gray, white, and purple; Jon attached it to his shirt without hesitation, though as luck would have it, it clashed horribly with the orange and red flannel shirt he’d chosen to wear that day. Ah well. Jon had never much cared for fashion, and it was the intent that mattered, wasn’t it?

Tim didn’t so much as blink an eye at Jon grabbing that pin, which made sense, really; Jon hadn’t outright used the term asexual to describe himself to Tim before, but he’d made his identifying as such clear enough in less direct means as they went from mere fellow researchers to friends.

A moment of hesitation, then, before Jon grabbed one other thing--a sticker with stripes of blue, purple, and the same shade of hot pink that still adorned Tim’s cheek, one that both Tim and Jon knew the meaning of well enough.

Tim’s grin grew even wider as Jon removed the sticker from the paper it was attached to and stuck it on the top of his cane, and as Jon patted it down to flatten it out, the two nodded at one another in a strange, silent show of solidarity.

(The pin remained on Jon’s shirt for the rest of the day, then found a place on top of his dresser where it stayed for some time--still visible, still able to be reached on special occasions, but mostly remaining in one place.

The sticker stuck to Jon’s cane, where his hand often covered it as he made use of the cane, making him feel as though he was leaning on the sticker for support as much as on the cane itself. As months turned to years the sticker faded and tore, but it never quite disappeared from view.)

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, consider following me on tumblr at [haberdashing](https://haberdashing.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
